


Flower Moon

by poetroe



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), Asami loves getting on top of things, Champagne, Drinking, Drunken Flirting, Exes, F/F, Fluff, Kissing, Korrasami - Freeform, M/M, Tennis, drinking buddies to lovers, i honestly don't know what to tag, it's prince Wu's birthday bash and y'all are all invited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19151872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetroe/pseuds/poetroe
Summary: Prince Wu's birthday party is in full swing and Asami is not really up for it. Luckily for her, she ends up finding some privacy, an endless supply of free booze and a drinking buddy before the night is through.





	Flower Moon

**Author's Note:**

> To all my readers, happy pride month !! I stole the title of this fic from the new vampire weekend song (check out their new album it's really good). And to Roxie especially, since you loved hold my liquor so much I’m giving you: more drunk antics !! It’s a soft modern au like you said u liked, I hope you enjoy it and happy early birthday!!!!!

“How do I look?” Mako runs a hand through his hair for the thousandth time as Asami gives him a one-over. She straightens his tie and her hands smooth the fabric of the suit over his broad shoulders.

“Like a million bucks,” Asami answers with an approving smile. “Very princely, if you ask me.” Mako grumbles something under his breath and turns back to the mirror with a frown as he messes up his hair again. “Don’t worry, hot shot,” Asami mumbles as she puts in her earrings—long, jangly, silver things that hang about halfway down to her shoulders—and pats Mako on the back reassuringly. “Wu won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.” She thinks briefly of all the lunch dates she spent third wheeling. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” Mako sighs, before turning his back to the mirror. “Let’s go. You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way.” Asami grins as she throws her dark, wavy hair over her shoulder and winks at her ex.

“Oh darling, I know.”

The Butakha Arena looks as beautiful as Asami remembers it. She’s only been here once before, to some sports event she can’t even remember, with her father and a couple of his associates. The golden arena overlooking the bay still shimmers like it did that night, all gilded excess, with bright lights falling upwards on a deck of passing clouds. It might be a bit extravagant for a birthday party, Asami thinks as the limo driver stops in front of the entrance; then again, it is prince Wu’s birthday party.

Mako offers her his hand when she exits the car like the true gentleman he is and together, arms linked, they walk through the barrage of flashing lights and camera shutter sounds, over a soft red carpet that leads them right into the arena.

Prince Wu pounces the second they walk into the hall.

“Mako!” he says with shining eyes, instantly pulling the detective away from Asami as he beams up at Mako. “You came!” Mako scoffs but Asami can see the tiny smile threatening to tug the corner of his mouth up.

“Of course,” he answers, linking Wu’s arm with his own on the place where Asami’s had been just a second ago, and getting pulled into the crowd as soon as he does. Mako says something else and with this many people it’s too noisy for Asami to hear, but she hears Wu’s outrageous laugh, and she sees him smile a genuine smile for the first time all night.

A pang of something bitter shoots through her chest and Asami frowns as she goes in search of a drink and some entertainment.

***

The party is in full swing, which means Korra is all but racing through the room with her tray, getting people their Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay’s at a breakneck speed and keeping her friendliest smile on her face throughout it all.

She, Bolin and Opal work as a well-oiled machine, making the rounds with drinks, hors d'oeuvres and anything else the guests ask for. Korra is just on her way back from the pantry with a tray of fresh glasses of white wine, when her path through the throng of people takes her right past the tall windows overlooking the court. Her breath hitches slightly as she looks down at it; no matter how silly it seems now, standing on the green grass of the Butakha Arena had been a dream of hers ever since she first picked up a tennis racket and fell in love with the way her inner strength turns outwards with just the swing of her arm, the thrill and satisfaction that come with a well-placed shot and the fight with her opponent, contained in the constant rhythm of the rally.

The fantasy of playing (and winning) the Republic City Open blinds Korra for a moment, so intensely that she doesn’t see the tall girl in a long, red gown, with long silver earrings that could reach her shoulders if they were just a little bit longer. Korra bumps into her just as she notices her, but recovers before she can spill the glasses on her tray all over the girl.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters as she takes a step back, out of the girl’s personal space. “I’m so sorry. Can I get you anything?” The girl grimaces, looking about as pleased to spend her Saturday night here as Korra feels, and doesn’t wait for Korra to put her empty glass on her tray to exchange it for a full one.

“Don’t worry about it,” the girl answers, before taking a generous gulp from the wine. “Thanks.” She raises the glass a little and smiles, but it seems kind of forced. Korra quickly plasters her own fake smile on her face again.

“My pleasure,” she says. Turning back around, Korra shakes her head briefly to get that little slip up out of her thoughts, and gets back to work.

The party has entered into its fourth hour when the music switches up to a funky, midtempo melody, courtesy of the live band, and a dancefloor opens up. Despite the decreased space around the impromptu dancefloor, this doesn’t really complicate Korra’s job. Or, so she thinks, until she properly sees the birthday boy for the first time since the night started and the all too familiar man dancing with him. Mako’s normally so serious-looking eyes are shining with mirth as he dances with the prince, a crinkle of happiness between his eyes and next to the surprise she feels, Korra can taste something bitter in the back of her throat at the sight. She swallows, tears her eyes away from the scene and flees into the pantry.

***

The glass of wine from the waiter that very nearly had ruined her dress is gone too soon. It goes on the list of things that Asami is inexplicably annoyed by tonight, right under Wu and Mako rubbing their puppy love in everyone’s faces, the music that’s too loud and irritatingly cheerful, and the fact that Asami can’t seem to find a waiter to get her another drink for the life of her.

Seeing Tahno making a beeline for her once the dancefloor opens up with his insufferable grin and his slicked back hair is the last straw. Quickly turning on her heel, Asami walks out of the hall.

Pulling open random doors leads to Asami discovering the pantry with, thank God, every drop of alcohol intended for this entire night. She’s already three glasses in, so Asami doesn’t have any inhibitions left to keep her from finding the closest bottle of champagne, twisting the cork vigorously until it shoots up into her hand with a dry popping sound. There aren’t any glasses to be found, but this is far from Asami’s first time at this particular rodeo so she sets the bottle at her mouth adeptly and relishes the way the champagne tingles on her tongue as she swallows.

Of course, right at that moment, someone walks in. Asami almost does a spit take when the door swings open, but she manages to swallow her mouthful of bubbles just in time. It’s the waiter from before that’s standing in the doorway. Away from the colored and strobe lights, Asami can finally see her properly. The smile from before has made way for shock, but Asami is looking at the dark hair that curls ever so slightly where it falls against her chin, the wide set of her shoulders and the impossibly deep blue of her eyes.

The girl clears her throat awkwardly and Asami suddenly becomes incredibly self-aware of how she must look: a high society girl sitting on a box of wine in a glorified broom closet, drinking champagne straight from the bottle.

“Don’t mind me,” the girl says after a beat, walking further into the pantry and to a high shelf stacked with bottles of Chardonnay. Asami watches and forgets about her previous shame, sipping champagne and watching with a certain fascination as the girl tries and fails to get a bottle. It’s either the whispered expletives or the alcohol in her blood that makes Asami blush, and after watching the girl struggle for a while, she decides to do something about it.

“Need a hand?” Asami asks. The girl turns around and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sure I can get it,” she says determinedly, before replacing some bottles on one of the lower shelf. Asami watches as she creates space, then puts her foot on the shelf.

“Uh, it’s no problem, really,” Asami says, standing up quickly. “I don’t think _climbing_ is going to cut it.” The girl turns back to her with a pout, but doesn’t complain as Asami presses the bottle she’s been cradling in her arms. Her height combined with her heels make grabbing a bottle from the top shelf child’s play and Asami grins as she holds the bottle out triumphantly. “You can have it, in exchange for your name.”

“Korra,” the girl answers as she takes the bottle from Asami with a smile, handing her the champagne in return. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Asami answers. Korra turns around, probably to get back to her job and leave Asami to wallow alone, but she changes her mind and takes a seat on a box next to Asami instead.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in here?” she asks.

“Hiding from my ex and his unbridled joy,” Asami replies, before taking another swig. Korra grimaces sympathetically.

“Anything I can do to help?” she mutters with kind eyes. Asami, feeling oddly touched, smiles and hands her the bottle.

“You could be my drinking buddy.”

***

Korra thinks she shouldn’t be doing this. In fact, she’s very sure. Her boss Tenzin rules their operation with an iron fist and she really doesn’t feel like losing her job, not even for a girl as beautiful as the one she’s sitting next to. It runs through her mind as she accepts the bottle of champagne and brings it to her lips. Korra winces slightly at the bitter aftertaste of the alcohol, but she lets herself relish in this little rebellion against her boss.

“I hope you know that it’s your fault if I lose my job,” she mentions with a smile after handing the bottle back to the other girl. Her only reply is a wicked grin.

“My father is the one throwing the prince this little birthday bash,” she says, in between sips. “So, if keeping me company does cost you your job, by all means,” she hands Korra the bottle with a smirk that has her cheeks heating up, “come to me.” Korra doesn’t exactly know what to say to that, so she occupies herself with her drink instead, and takes a big gulp.

“So,” she begins when she’s regained her composure, as she hands the bottle back. “What is a fancy girl, dressed to the nines, like yourself doing, chugging champagne in the pantry of the prince’s party?” Korra doesn’t really expect her to answer, but when she’s silently berating herself for the forward question, the girl does.

“I saw my ex,” she mutters, before taking a swig. “He’s dating the prince.” Korra’s eyes widen briefly in recognition, and the sudden knowledge that Mako had dated this beautiful, but like actually stunningly _beautiful_ girl Korra is now sharing a bottle of 2002 Dom Perignon Rose with. “And then my drink was gone and I couldn’t find any of you—” She gestures at Korra’s tie and waistcoat wildly. “—and then I saw someone who _really_ gets on my nerves, so I just…” She gestures again, swinging her hand around the pantry. Korra quickly grabs the bottle from her other hand, that had also unintentionally started moving, before the girl spills anything.

“Understandable,” Korra answers, taking a swig of champagne. “The same thing actually happened to me, more or less. Needing to find a hiding spot, I mean.” She smiles at the girl and the girl smiles back, and Korra finds she’s pleasantly surprised at the sudden feeling of happiness that seems to gush through her at the sight.

They fall into easy conversation after that. Korra tells the girl about her dog, the girl tells Korra about her car, then the empty bottle is replaced with a full one and they move on to embarrassing stories from childhood and the dreams of their youth.

Briefly, as she recounts her dream of becoming a professional tennis player, Korra thinks about how weird it is that she’s talking about one of her biggest regrets in life to a virtual stranger. Somehow it’s so easy to forget. “So I won a major grass tournament when I first got to Republic City,” she says, as she pulls at the label of the second bottle, already half-empty. “My first big win. And… then I got in a car accident and I couldn’t walk for two and a half years, so I had to go back home.” Korra grimaces as she looks down at her legs, but sees instead all that time and her career, and how it all went down the drain. Suddenly, there’s the pretty girl’s hand, rubbing over her knee gingerly.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles. Feeling kind of bad about the turn of the conversation, Korra covers the girl’s hand with her own and smiles confidently.

“I got a cool scar out of it, though.” With their faces this close, Korra can see the exact moment those green eyes gain a sparkle.

“Can I see?” the girl asks softly. With a grin, Korra hands her the bottle and starts on the buttons of her waistcoat.

“Of course.” She doesn’t see the blush on the other girl’s cheeks until she moves away slightly.

“Wow, this night is really not going how I imagined it would go,” the girl mutters under her breath as she takes another swig of champagne, her gaze on Korra’s hands seemingly far away.

“You’re saying rich people don’t get stripteases from their waiters all the time?” Korra says with a grin, that widens when the girl bursts out in giggles. When her waistcoat is off, she pulls her dress shirt out of the waistband of her pants, and stops. “Since you know my name and one of the most defining moments in my life already, can I get yours in return for a look at my scar?” The girl doesn’t hesitate.

“Of course. I’m Asami,” she says with a smile. “Nice to officially meet you, Korra.” Her name in Asami’s mouth does something to her that Korra would rather not think about, so she just chooses that moment to lift her shirt up.

Asami’s gasp comes as no surprise. Korra’s seen the cracks in the soft skin of her belly, stretching around her side to her back, still slightly more pink than the surrounding skin but already whitening. “It looks worse than it was.”

“You couldn’t walk for _two and a half years_ ,” comes Asami’s indignant answer.

“Ah, well,” Korra answers as she lowers her shirt again. “Think of it this way. If that hadn’t happened, I probably wouldn’t have met you.” Her smile turns a little smug. “I would’ve been down on that court, winning the Republic City Open.”

***

This is probably the most Asami has laughed in the past month. Or, scratch that, this entire year. Korra is the pleasant surprise she never expected to get in this night of disappointments, and there’s something that makes her so easy to talk to that Asami simply can’t bring herself to stop. She’s having actual fun for the first time in a long time and Korra’s stories are interesting, not to mention incredibly funny. On top of that, she’s very attractive, Asami thinks as she finishes the second bottle. On top of that, I wish I was, her brain helpfully supplies, and it’s so funny to her that Asami can’t help the guffaw that escapes her lips.

“Sorry,” she says, still giggling, when Korra raises an eyebrow amusedly. “Just had a weird thought.”

“What?” Korra asks, but Asami just shakes her head decisively.

“I’m not telling you,” she says with a lopsided grin, before standing up. “Come on.”

“You can tell me, you know,” Korra says, but she does as she’s told and follows when Asami grabs a hold of her hand and pulls her along, out of the pantry and into the hall. “I thought we were on track to become best friends.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a _friendly_ thought,” Asami mutters darkly, before she realizes what she’s saying. Her cheeks heat up, but Korra only smirks in answer.

“So, where are you taking me?” she asks as Asami pushes open the door to the staircase. She smirks, briefly, and squeezes Korra’s hand.

“You’ll see.”

With a little help from the signs and a lot of luck, Asami manages to reach the place she has in mind. She drops Korra’s hand with just a hint of sadness and pulls open the door. They enter a long corridor that has its walls lined with the names of the past winners of the Republic City Open, and as they walk towards the end Asami can already see the field, even though it’s hidden under the cloak of darkness. As intended, she hears Korra’s sharp intake of breath as they walk out onto the grass of the center court. Asami comes to a stop, turning around to Korra with just the slightest stagger.

“What do you think?” she asks, with a hint of a smile. Korra’s eyes are big as she takes in the court, the hundreds of seats that make up the arena and up high, the skyboxes, with the unmistakable lights and people from the prince’s party.

“It’s beautiful,” Korra mumbles, before turning her gaze to Asami. “Thank you.” There’s an honesty in her eyes and the way she says it that touches Asami and she doesn’t hesitate to grab Korra’s hands with her own again.

“Thank _you_ ,” she says. “For being my drinking partner.” A soft chuckle escapes her lips. “And managing to keep up with me.” It’s in this moment that Asami is flooded with the urge to kiss Korra, with the way she’s grinning at Asami right now; all confidence and comfort, just like she’s been grinning at her all night. The realization is so intense that Asami staggers again, just a little bit, towards Korra. But you’re drunk, she reminds herself, don’t do that to the poor girl.

Then Korra says: “I could really kiss you right now, you know,” and Asami’s heart nearly stops. Her thoughts are going a mile a minute, but no words actually manage to make it past her lips. A blush rushes up to her cheeks as Asami just keeps looking at Korra—there doesn’t seem to be anything else she can do. “You know what?” Korra whispers, eventually, as she comes to hold Asami’s hands in her own. “I’m just… gonna do it...” She leans in so slowly it’s painful, giving Asami ample time to move away, but it just makes her frustrated.

Maybe the champagne gives her this edge, or maybe that’s just Korra’s power, but when Asami impatiently crosses the distance and presses her lips against Korra’s, the force of her momentum makes her fall into Korra’s arms and has them both falling onto the cool grass. Both Korra and Asami burst out giggling at the same time and Asami revels in the weightlessness she feels as she rolls off Korra and watches the arena in the darkness.

“Do you think they can see us from up there?” Korra asks as she folds her arms under her head. Her question sounds carefree, like it’s just something she’s curious about instead of something she’s scared of.

Asami hums as she thinks about it. “I’ve been looking at Wu and Mako being all over each other all night,” she answer as she rolls on her side, holding herself up with her elbow as she looks down at Korra. A grin spreads over her features. “I don’t see why I can’t do the same.”

“Does that mean you’re all over me?” Korra asks with a mirroring grin.

“I’m about to be.” Asami quickly leans down even further and presses another kiss to the corner of Korra’s mouth. Then, with bursting laughter, she’s turned around by Korra. With a silent giggle, Asami pauses and looks up; she sees the twinkle in Korra’s eyes reflected by the stars in the night sky above them, visible through the glass ceiling in spite of the arena lights. The flower moon sheds her light on the two of them, lying on the trimmed grass of the court, when Asami leans up to press her lips to Korra’s—slow, this time.

Her hands touch Korra’s scar under her shirt—the reason why she’d never make it here, her brain supplies—but as Asami turns them around again and presses Korra’s back into the grass, she can only feel like she’s made something right in the world. She’s engulfed by the profound feeling that Korra belongs here, on the holy grass of the center court, encased by a golden arena. And with herself, _right_ on top of that, she thinks with a smile.


End file.
